


The Champions Prize

by WeedMan



Series: Dark Indulgence [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ??? - Freeform, AU, Additional Tags to Be Added, Altean Prince Lance, Anal Sex, Angst, Dubious Content, Implied Torture, Langst, M/M, Made before season 5, Multi, Other, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Scars, Smut, Violence, dont like dont read, gladiator ring, human shiro, noncon/rape, shance, very very bad au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-31 11:05:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13973739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeedMan/pseuds/WeedMan
Summary: “What’s your name?”He amused himself with the thought of giving a small child his true name. He couldn’t help but stare at the young boy, different from the usual purple furred brutes who walk through his doors. He decided, ‘this as going to be my new plaything’.“You may call me Blue. Everyone here does.”“Isn’t blue a color?”“My original name is forgotten in a long dead language, little boy.” Blue laughed.The kid beamed.“My name is Shiro! Well… part of my name; but It means white in a language that lots of people here don’t know!”“... Is that so? It seems like quite the coincidence huh?”Lance is the last Altean alive, captured by the Galra he has served for hundreds of years as the prize passed around to the current Champion in the gladiator rings.He never knew in his three hundred years that his usual lifestyle would break down, all because of a small weak human child.





	1. Thousands of Years Later

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to all I can write is angst with your host- Weedman. This is Unbeta’d mainly because I don’t want to subject my lovely editors to this (not like they won’t find out tho-) but if you see mistakes please tell me so I can correct them myself. Also if I need to add tags also comment that-
> 
> ***DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVENT READ THE WARNINGS***
> 
> Authors note: For the sake of understanding abit
> 
> 1) Alteans have much longer life spans. (But Lance was augmented anyways)
> 
> 2) The gladiator rings are less of an entertainment for the Galra using different alien species but instead is more of a ranking system for the Galra, showing who is more superior and stronger. ((I MADE THIS STORY BEFORE SEASON 5 AND IM STILL USING THE GLADIATOR RINGS BECAUSE ZARKON IS STILL IN POWER OKAY??))
> 
> 3) The gladiator rings are done once the last champion dies, or is challenged. (Honestly fairly often cause the Galra are stupidly prideful)
> 
> 4) for simplicity’s sake, Time references will be Earth time, not whatever Alteans and Galra actually use.
> 
> 5) Everyone, unless stated otherwise, is speaking in Galran language. (Don't make this more complicated than needed.)
> 
> Please read the tags! This is slightly darker than the rest of my stories! This may be triggering in ways and I do not mean to take it lightly! That out of the way, lets begin, and I’m so sorry.

Lance’s back arched off the bed, just the way he knew this new Champion liked. Pitching a throw away moan, dramatically throwing his hands on to the thick and abnormally stretched neck. Lance buried his head in the disgusting sweaty arch, trying to focus on just the feeling in his gut instead of what he saw in front of him. 

The champion ground against Lance's ass, Lance screamed as one of the grooves hit exactly where he was weak. The champion laughed gruffly as he held lances hands above his head, pushing himself against the spot that caused lance to squirm and jolt. 

Let it end. Please. Lance could feel vomit pooling at the bottom of his esophagus. You would think three hundred years of this that he would be able to withstand the different variation of bodies grinding on his own. But the bones that curved into the monstrosities skin made Lance want to use it to puncture his own lung. Lance choked back on the puke trying to make its way up, shutting his eyes as tears formed.

“Hey Blue, you don’t seem so enthusiastic.” The champion laughed, pulling out, seeing the glisten of what Lance assumed was lube.

“Is that so?” Lance said while trying to fake a grin before pulling his hands out of the champions clutches, turning and pushing the champion over suddenly to his back.

Lance sunk deep and fast, not caring for the burn of the stretch on his own body. The champion underneath him groaned, a guttural noise Lance had the unfortunate opportunity to learn was a Galran moan. Lance buried himself to the hilt on the Galra, stopping only when he could not force any more in even when he prepared himself before. Lance strained to stay upward, out of breath as the cock weighed heavily in his stomach. The more quickly he did this the more faster he would leave.

He started slowly, trying to get himself used to the feeling of the soft ridges scraping his insides. The champion underneath him didn’t seem to agree to his methods as they placed their clawed hands on lance's hips, harsh enough to leave bruises. He gripped on lances flesh and forced him to take it just as deep as he had before. Lance tried to jerk away, levitate the building pressure but the hands kept him still. They loosened to pull him up and back down on to the length. 

The Galra took it at their own pace, flipping lance back over on his stomach with one hand clutching his neck as they forced lance to take them fully. Lance cried, moaning pitifully as tears welled up in his eyes. The Galra never tried to give lance any pleasure, he was to be used by them after all. He wanted nothing more than to jerk himself off or get friction on the blanket, anything to help his pitiful leaking cock. 

The Galra snarled, biting into the juncture of lances neck leaving a bright red trail of blood and drool. Lance cried, he could feel the ridges extending, filling the excess space as it forced itself to plug his hole. It swelled up, leaving lance a mess as he clung loosely and uselessly clawed at the silk blankets. The Galra finally released, shoving himself further in as he grinded on Lance's ass, riding the rest of his orgasm alone. Lance could feel his cum pooling inside of him.

Lance shivered as he pulled out, leaving his hole to gape at empty air as it tried to recover. Lance collapsed on the bed, curling and trying to keep the cum inside as to not make the bed messier. Lance whines as his penis was an angry red color, begging to be touched. 

Lance knew better than to try to touch himself in the presence of the champion.

“That was great,” the champion laughed, already standing up and leaving lance to pull on his body armor. “You should compliment the druids for making you so tight.” 

Lance bit his tongue. It wasn’t the first time he had heard such words. They just wished to always remind Lance of his fate. Of how his body will no longer be the same, made to pleasure and be passed around and toyed with for years to come. How Altea, his planet, had already been destroyed, and how far he had fallen to become a whore from his past as royalty. Lance shivered at the cooling fluids, his own lust dying down as the Champion pulled on their metal boots. 

“See you later, Blue. I’ll be back once Zarkon stops handing out orders.” 

‘Yeah hopefully never! Just leave already!’ Lance huffed to himself.

The champion walked over to the door that Lance felt was miles away from the bed. The champion took out a keycard, placing it over a scanner. With a small whoosh the door slid open. If lance could ever just steal that keycard, he would be able to leave the room. But after he left he wouldn’t know where to go. He hasn’t traveled out of the room in… how many decades? The champion left the room, locking the door from the outside with a mechanical click.

Lance went to the adjoined bathroom attached to his prison. He had to admit it was a nice bathroom, but it wasn’t the one he had over three hundred years ago. Far from it. Lance didn’t care to view his injuries in the mirror. He turned on the shower not caring for the temperature as he stepped immediately to wash off the liquids and other grime from his body. His arms had bruises that covered nearly his entire forearm, the shape of the champions hands. His entire sides, neck, and thighs all had the same imprint of the hands. Lance swallowed the hard truth, the champion would probably last another long decade with him. 

The Galra were a prideful race, one where the strongest were the elite and those who were weak are doomed to death. Those who are elite get whatever they want, glory, fame, and harems. When Altea fell before Lances very eyes he was to be beheaded, shown as another conquer in Zarkons throne. Instead they kept him alive, gave him to the druids, and set him off the the fate as a prize. 

The champion, the right hand man of Zarkon, the one who controls who Lance is and what he does. The winner of the gladiator rings were called the Champion. They are crowned as the strongest and made to be Zarkons soldier. Lance was their possession. The champion could do whatever they wanted with Lance, other than to kill him. That didn’t stop many of them from getting close though. 

His very first time being handed to a champion was horrifying. He had to visit the Druids nearly every time the champion went to his room. Over the years Lance had gotten used to working with numerous...interesting and unique body types that enter his doors. He was considered a delicacy, a trophy to try and win from the battles. 

Lance shut off the water. Not caring at the last remnants of cum leaking out as he walked out of the bathroom. He grabbed one of his ornament outfits. Silky translucent light blue garments that barely covered any of him. They pulled at his body tightly as he secured the straps over his hips and chest. They were the closest to sleepwear Lance got. 

Lance pulled off the stained sheets, going to the closet and routinely and flawlessly pulling on new covers. Lance hated sleeping in anything dirty with wet spots, but it wasn’t like the Champion would ever help. Not like he wanted to stay with the champions for any longer than needed. No cuddling with those furry, slimy, disgusting mongrels no thank you! 

Lance lept on the bed, immediately regretting as his sore ass and bruises took effect and made him kneel and keen. He buried his head from the pillow. Damn fucking piece shit soft bed. Lance silently fumed into the pillow, like he had so many other nights. He used to cry for days on end, he never had tears to waste anymore. There was no point after so many years.

——————

It was a one in a lifetime encounter. Never to happen again. 

“Ahng…. ha-aah!” 

“Aren’t those some cute sounds Blue?”

Fucking shut up you damn asshole! 

The champion above him was a new one, the last one was most likely the quickest one he had had to be with. The transfer of champions was always Lances greatest fear. He didn’t know what type of Galra, alien or not, would come through the door. How they would treat him, knowing he has been doing this for years, and that he was simply waiting for them. Ready to please them. 

Lance bit his lips, muffling his sounds to short hits of whines. The champion had come directly from the battle, Lance could tell by the smell that hit the crook of his nose and made him want to puke. Blood. Metallic, drying, crispy and flaky as it fluttered around the bed like dandruff. Sweat, big globs that would hit lances face and body. 

The new champion thrusted forward, sending Lance to fold in half as his hands were tied above his head on the bed. Lance cried out, the position hurt, but it wasn’t Lances limit. The champions blood was rushing, he was still high on the adrenaline of winning a fight. Lance cursed in his mind, reminding himself if he was going to continue at this pace that he would finish quicker. 

Come quicker, please, just end this all! 

With a shudder the champion pulled out, jerking off the rest of the way before cumming over Lances body. Lance tried his best to stay still, shivering was involuntary, so he knew he wouldn’t get hit.

“You look good like that, whore.” 

“T...thank you.” Lance said, still unsure what this champion liked. 

“Since you are my prize now, I guess I have to lay down some of my rules.”

Lance shook. What the champion said, he had to do.

“If you disobey me I can take away some of the gifts your previous mates left you.”

The dresser filled with clothes, the bed, generally everything in the room weren’t gifts… they were just left there because they died. Too much of a bother to clean Lances room of a dead man’s possessions. 

“Lets see… unlike the others, I like humans when they are fit. You’re going to stay in this room all day to exercise. But, I don’t need you reading or writing.” 

Lance looked at his stomach, Hell he wasn’t that fat! But he knew the champion had his way. Lance didn’t mind, this new champion wasn’t anything new, who was the last champion who let him roam free? Lance sighed, what was the point of learning anyways when they were all in the Galra language?

“However, you can only stay in this room. I don’t want to get in trouble with the guards and boss. I don’t care how you take care of yourself, just lose that weird texture in your skin.” 

Lance knew it was useless to complain in his head, but he fumed internally as the champion went close to his closet. He opened up the drawers and pushed past outfits. Some champions limited Lances wardrobe for the weirdest of reasons. What good was changing his wardrobe if they rarely visited and he was stuck here everyday?

“I don’t want to see these colors on you,” see? “They are irritating to the eye.” The champion said while pushing the clothes deemed unworthy to the corner. 

“Yes sir.” Lance said. 

“You have a good tongue on you.” The champion laughed.

Without saying another word he had left the room. Quick, simple, and easy. Lance figured he gave Lance abit too much leeway in his rules. Didn’t give him any lines of text or regulations to follow in his diet. He might as well have given his access to everything. Lance got up to the front of the bed, shakily as he was drenched in fluorescent green goo. Lance took to the closet, pulling out an outfit the champion placed in the worthy spot and found himself taking a shower for the millionth time. He wasn’t even sure how much bills the waters could’ve added up; that was if he were still in a position to pay bills. 

Lance shoved his arms through the silk. He was glad the champion had allowed him to wear his favorite comfy ones. The others were rather gaudy anyways. The sheer fabric danced with his movements and were translucent as they criss crossed on his limbs. He applied minimal jewelry as Lance figured it would be better to not make a single noise. Lance took out new sheets and applied as routinely as he had before. Nothing had really changed. Just the difference was the one who came through his door and how they had touched him. 

Lance sunk into the cushions. His mind halfway gone, sunk in the screams and cries of red embers and explosions. His city, burned before his eyes. Civilians tortuous cries of agony that traveled and etched itself in every vein of Lance. He shut his eyes. Not willing to let his mind replay events that he could never change. Especially ones three hundred years, six months, twenty three days, five hours, and forty eight seconds ago. Why did he try to keep count? It wasn’t as if it were accurate. He had no way of telling time with no windows, and light, and no clocks. Just himself in this dimly lit room, waiting until the next time someone walks in to take him from the endless loop of nothingness.

Lance heard a small thumping noise. It sounded as if an air vent was activating or a rat was scrambling in his walls. Only, there were no such thing as Galran mice, and the air vents only activated for ventilation in cycles, which Lance had memorized. Lance kept his eyes closed, not daring, or rather caring who or what it was at this time. It was most likely an hallucination due to silence. Lance felt movement, or as he tried to convince himself, a slight wind. Lance kept himself perfectly still, keeping his breath even and face relaxed as if he were in deep sleep. 

A caress fell over Lances face. A… a small, warm hand? Lance's eyes shot open, his own surprise and curiosity winning over his need to survive. Lance froze in place upon laying his eyes on the sight before him. 

A… an Altean.

A boy. 

A small child. 

A… a small child with… hideous ears? 

No, this wasn’t an Altean! Lances mind screeched. He didn’t have the ears, nor the sacred marks. But otherwise, the boy looked exactly like Lance in form. His eyes were just as wide as Lances, processing each other’s existence. The child’s eyes were a dark silvery with pitch black pupils. His skin was light and littered with small scars. The boys hair was also a black nest, the contrast hurting Lances eyes slightly. 

“Pretty…” the boy gasped, his hand still wrapped against Lances cheek. 

Lance perched up, swatting the hand away from his face. Pretty? Who? What the hell about a chamber whore could be _pretty_? The child’s face seemed to burst bright red as he realized what he had said out loud to the subject of his praise. Lance felt himself amused. Perplexed mainly. Who was this? Why did… why did this child look Altean? Where did he come from? Why was he on a Galra ship of all places? 

“State your purpose!”

The child seemed to not understand his words. The child froze, tilting its head ever so slightly as if thinking. Lance figured a child didn’t understand diplomatic talks. Lance coughed, initiating a restart in what he felt was a universal suggestion.

“W-what’s your name?” Lance asked slowly, just in case the small child had difficulty.

He amused himself with the thought of giving a small child his true name. He couldn’t help but stare at the young boy, different from the usual purple furred brutes who walk through his doors. He decided, ‘this as going to be my new plaything’. An anomaly walked through his door and he could not pass up such an opportunity. 

“You may call me Blue. Everyone here does.” Lance answered as the boy was frozen.

“Isn’t blue a color?” The boy chirped out, finally relinquishing his alert posture.

The language was harsh on his tongue. He wasn’t born here. 

“My original name is forgotten in a long dead language, little boy.” Blue laughed. 

The kid beamed instantly in a way Lance couldn’t comprehend.

“My name is Shiro! Well… part of my name; but It means white in a language that lots of people here don’t know!”

“... Is that so? It seems like quite the coincidence huh?”

“Yeah! It’s fate!” 

Fate? What’s that? Lance shook off his sudden usage of words Lance didn’t understand. For now, he wanted to know more about this child.

“Shiro,” Lance managed to slur out, “where did you come from?”

“Come from? I came from the hallway.” Shiro said, pointing at the door. 

Figured… Lance mocked in his head. What were the sentries doing if they had let a child bypass them? Instead Lance rephrased it, “Where were you born, Shiro?” 

“Born? I was born on Earth on small island called Japan.”

Earth? Japan? Lance couldn’t comprehend most of what Shiro had said before, but he felt himself growing even more curious. 

Earth… Earth had a nice ring to it. 

“Why are you here Shiro?” Lance asked.

“I was exploring!” Shiro puffed in pride.

All the way in space? 

“I meant, why are you on a Galra ship, Shiro?” 

“... I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” 

“I was on Earth and then bam,” he hit his fist into an open palm, “I’m suddenly in space! Or at least that’s what they tell me. I’ve been here for years. I’ve never seen you!”

Years?

“Blue were you always here?”

Lance sighed. What were the Galra doing now? He was sure that they had basically conquered every universe at this point, but now they were abducting babies from strange planets? For what purpose? Lance threw a curious glance at Shiro’s frame. He looked… he simply looked like a normal child. Lance couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the lifeless colors of his hair and eyes, but it drew him in even curiouser. 

“I have been here for many years. Long before you were even born. How about you?”

“... I think five years? It’s hard to keep count. There’s no sun, and no clock I understand!.” 

So Eartheans used the sun for the concept of time? Intriguing. 

“Blue, who are you? You don’t look like Sendak or Haggar” The kid asked, pulling Lance from his mental image of a planet where the sun was the center.

Those wretched names. Lance curled his fingers, pulling the blankets taut within his grasp. The witch who betrayed all of Altea, and got him into this miserable immortal life. Lance tried to simmer down his anger, he had years to think of ways to exact his revenge for his home, but only minutes before a guard came in to find Shiro. 

“I… I am a….” Lance stumbled, he made himself promise never to utter the name of the dead— even if it was an entire race.

“You look like a mermaid, but you have legs!” 

Mermaid? Lance tried to envision based on context clues. A maid, but without legs? How would such a maid be useful in a kingdom if she were unable to walk on her own? It would be very difficult to dust curtains if a maid were to use a wheelchair… Lance continued to muddle in his own thoughts as Shiro continued.

“Your blue eyes… they have a pretty mix of pink and darker blue… middles. Your hair is white and silver, it’s very shiny and silky looking.”

Lance pulled on his strands, pulling them only inches from his head. It was getting long… what was so good about his features?

“You have long legs! You don’t have furry skin, or even a single pimple like my mom! And you don’t pile on a lot of makeup on your skin.” 

Why would someone like him need makeup? He obviously wasn’t Galra, and Shiro didn’t seem to stop rambling in a delighted bubbly tone. Something… inside Lance hurt. 

“You… you shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?” Shiro asked, cocking his head once again.

“This place is restricted. Only certain authority can enter here.” Lance said, tapping shiro's small nose which got him shrinking.

“Auth- authority?”

“Person who has power to enforce an order. Meaning people who don’t like other people seeing me.” 

“Are you auth- authority?” Shiro asked, getting visibly scared. 

“... you can say that.”

“Will you kick me out?” Shiro asked.

“I would rather avoid getting in to trouble.” Lance sighed. 

“Then… if I leave now, would you be happy?”

Lance paused. Of course Lance would right? Something strange wandering into his boring looping territory that messes up his timing. An actual conversation drained Lance oddly, as if a lullaby that was trying to draw him to sleep, despite his excitement to find another alien not of Galran race. 

“No…” Lance subconsciously whispered.

“Then can I come back here again?” Shiro smiles, pushing his chin against the bed and letting his cheeks push together adorably. 

“I-“ Lance stuttered, “I, yes, please…”

Shiro’s eyes twinkled, as if a kid had found an incredible rare and shiny rock. Lance felt the need to tell Shiro to scram, never come back or else he would get caught and get hurt. Another part of Lance wished Shiro would come back, see the tinge of pink skin against the contrast of purple tinted lights, the pulse that ran underneath them beating against Lance just as his sisters had before. But he couldn’t bring himself to say either. No matter how long he shall be kept in here, should he truly seek refuge in a child? 

“Then, I want to see you again,” Shiro said, “I will come back and see you okay? Pinky promise!”

Shiro held up his smallest finger, curled in the air with an expectant look.

“What is this?” Lance asked, pointing with his index finger towards Shiro’s.

The connotation implied by Shiro was unmistakably embarrassing.

“Pinky promise! We put our pinky fingers together,” Shiro said as he took Lances pinky finger and curled it around his, making an awkward display of their sizes, “and then we shake!”

Shiro shook his finger up and down bringing along Lances finger. Lance wasn’t sure what about this pinky did to ensure a promise, but he felt delighted all the same. 

“If I don’t visit you again, I’ll swallow a thousand needles!” 

Lance bolted upright, his jewelry flattering against his skin, “Why would you swallow needles!? Nonetheless a thousand?! That’s dangerous!” 

Shiro seemed to pause, surprised as he looked up to Lance with the saddest looking eyes.

“It’s a promise. That’s why.” Shiro said, suddenly smirking. 

A loud knock rang out from the door, “Blue, is there something wrong inside your quarters?” A sentry asked.

“I guess I have to go. I’ll see you later, Blue!” Shiro called out, waving his hand and then running towards to opening door, ducking under the guards legs and sprinting away just as quick as he appeared.

As if a fresh drop of water in an ocean of oil, the child’s smile had made its mark on Lance. No longer was it just the endless echoes of his own moans that rung as a taunting melody as he closed his eyes, no longer was it the burnt remains of his family and people suffocating as their lungs turned pitch black. It was the laughter of a small child. It wasn’t Blue, Lance, or even Altean. But it was… Shiro.


	2. Where the line is drawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I wasn’t expecting people to like this but then I remembered- it’s the internet. Atleast one person will think it’s alright. 
> 
> Again UnBeta’d, please tell me if there is mistakes or tags I do need to add! I’m sorry that it’s so short...
> 
> Thank you guys so much for the comments and kudos! You guys are awesome :D!

“Blue!” Shiro shouted from the large vent on the ceiling. 

Lance looked around, the Champion this time had an actual schedule of when he would visit Lance, which he was ultimately grateful for. Lance scrolled over his calendar, checking to see if it was indeed not one of the days the Champion would be visiting, but that didn’t stop Lance from being cautious. 

“Shiro, jump down.”

Lance and Shiro had perfected this odd theatrical routine. Shiro had apparently been stopped before making his way to Lance's room the second time therefore Shiro, as determined as he was, set off and miraculously found a vent that led to Lances room. It was large for him, enough space to crawl and wiggle his way through the different crevices until he found the one that dropped to the foot of Lances bed. 

Lance held his arms out, waiting expectantly to catch the child who unlatched the vent and tumbled out toward the bed. Shiro fell on top of Lances arm with a whump, Lance pridefully held Shiro as if proud of their success. Lance situated Shiro on the bed, cleaning off his robes from the dirt from Shiro’s boots. 

“Have you been out sparring?” Lance asked, it had been around two weeks since they last spoke.

“Yeah! I’ve been learning under Provok on hand to hand combat!” 

They were treating this human child as if it were a Galran child, despicable. Lance studied over Shiro’s frame. He was so young, still a ripe age of around twelve Lance believed and still looked like he were made for books, not a sword. Lance took Shiro’s hands into his own. They were warm, some fingers already growing calluses and hardening. The thoughts that his hands held a blade with the intention to kill made Lance shudder. Lance lightly took his hands from Shiro’s, folding them across his own lap.

“I… lets talk about something else.” Lance quickly suggested.

“Okay!” Shiro gleefully agreed.

“I want to know more about Earth. How do Eartheans usually look like? Are they similar to you?” 

“Uhhhhh,” Shiro looked up as if he could catch reminiscent images in the sky, “No! They don’t all look like me! A lot of people have black hair but I know that some people have blonde, brown, blue, red, pink, green, anything we want!”

“Amazing! That’s quite a variety of colors!” It reminded Lance of his home. 

“Yeah! And everyone has different noses, different hair styles, different lips, languages, and there’s more… but I’ve forgotten a lot.”

The drop in Shiro’s tone froze Lances veins, he shouldn’t need to have to see his own home planet as a second thought. As something he could only reminisce and find as a burden. But Lance didn’t know how he would ever find such a planet in the galaxy faster than the Galra. They always found out before Lance. Shiro had better chances of going off alone. 

“Shiro, why do you stay with the Galra if your original planet is still intact?”

Shiro looked as Lance as if he had just told a joke. 

“Even if you tell me that now… I have no home to return to. It’s been a long time, I don’t know if they- my family will remember me. Here they give me food, shelter, and the training is tough, but it’s for me to protect myself.” Shiro spoke, carefully stroking his thumb over lances hand mindlessly- or was it a nervous habit?

Lance knew the reality of the situation. They both were simply stuck there to work until they died. Lance as a chamber whore from spoils in the war and Shiro as a foot soldier for the war. Shiro deserves better. Lance didn’t want this boy to only memorize the ways to slice an enemy or see only the darkness of the vast void. He wanted Shiro to see Altea. His Altea. Take him back to his own family on Earth or let him live his life not needing to protect himself. Let him find purpose other than to kill. He was sure Shiro would be much more happier. They both would had been had it not been for the Galra. 

“Maybe that’s true… you wouldn’t have survived if you are not strong in the Galran ranks…”

“I’m strong! I learned how to properly hold a blade! That’s another reason why I fight! I need to make sure that they know earth humans are strong! So they don’t mess with anymore of us!”

Lance’s heart boiled. They didn’t need a child to show them that. As strong as Shiro may get, it was through Galran training and works that built him. He set himself on a noble cause, but he is still of susceptible mind. How would he be able to survive against such brutes? How would any human if they were as adorable as Shiro?

“Blue, you always ask about me, but I don’t know you a lot.” Shiro said quietly, so docile Lance didn’t register it as Shiro at first.

His small demand caught Lance off guard, Shiro wasn’t another spy sent on him by the Galra, Lance knew that, after all they knew everything about him whether he liked it or not. But he hadn’t thought Shiro would be interested in him. But then again, he was a race Shiro hadn’t seen before… nor would ever see again. 

“I’m simply one of another race. And my rules include me staying in this bedroom until I die.” Lance said the last part before realizing just who he was talking to. He saw Shiro’s face instantly drop with dread at the word _die_. Shiro took Blue’s hand, making Lance jolt at how much Shiro touched Lances tainted skin. 

“Blue, there’s a door right there!” Shiro exclaimed, pointing towards the only door out. 

Lance smiled at his determined goal. He still didn’t understand why Lance was in here, what he was kept for, and what he was doing when Shiro wasn’t here. Lance lightly brushed Shiro’s growing hands off his own. Lance couldn’t bear the small hurt face Shiro made when Lance made no attempt to get off of the plush bed. 

“Shiro, I must stay here. I cannot leave no matter how much I try or wish.” 

“Why?”

There was the question Lance had been dreading. One that had plagued him for as long as he stayed in the very room he was captive for over three hundred years. Why. Why did he stay here. Why did he not take the sharp edges of his jewels that dig into him and take it to his throat instead to end his own continuous fate? Why did he not bash his own head against the ground or bathroom sink? Why did he not take the pillow and suffocate? Why did he stay? Must he shame his lineage for much longer?

“I… because I must. Simple as that.” It was written in his bones.

“Do you get food?”

“Of course I do. I’m sure I get fed healthier foods than you.”

“Do you get showers?”

“Even baths.” Lance said, pointing towards the back of the room.

“Do you know how to defend yourself?”

“To an extent yes. Although I learned many many years ago, I still remember…” Lance bit his lip.

“Do you like it in here then?” 

Of course he doesn’t.

The small pause from Blue was enough of a answer for Shiro. Even as Lance tried to get out the words he couldn’t pull them directly out from his throat. Shiro managed to wrap his whole hand around Blues wrist, pulling with such a force Lance wouldn’t had known was from such a small boy. Lance was now on his feet, looking bewildered at the boy who dragged him to the door. 

“I want you outside! I want to show you what it looks like! Outside there’s a lot of rooms I can’t open, but even further there’s one of the kitchens with food, there is training rooms, and there’s even a my barrack to sleep in! I know it doesn’t sound like a lot but there’s more space than in here!”

Lances heart raced. His head spun and his stomach felt more pressed than when he had to do his night activities. His eyes weren’t seeing Shiro nor the door. He only tried to imagine the hallway. The hallway, the windows, the numerous Galran faces. Lance smacked Shiro’s hand off of his. Forcibly drawing away and pressing his own hands towards his chest as he shuttered. His broke down, finding himself on his knees. Crying into his own hands, crying like the babbling blundering mess he was.

“I- I can’t! I… I can’t go outside!”

“Blue…”

“Stop! I won’t! I swear I won’t leave! I’ll stay here!”

“Blue!” 

“Leave! I… I won’t fall for it again! I won’t step a foot outside this room,” Lance nearly screamed at the top of his lungs as he stared down Shiro’s scared face, “Leave! You need to go!”

“...Blue, I’ll come back.” Was all Shiro said as he ran back out the door, not looking back as Lance fell into his own puddle of boneless flesh. His arms unable to support himself as he heaved.

He puked, staining his clothes and leaving an acidic bile to coat his mouth and throat in a disgusting aroma and taste. He fell to his side, dry heaving on nothing. His stomach swam as much as his head as Blue could feel his heat rise against the cold ground. Lance crawled, using his hands to grip the ground and pulled himself up off of the ground and back on the bed. Once he got back on the bed, Lance heard the door slide open with its mechanical whir. Lance immediately pulled his head off the bed, swiftly turning to try to glimpse back to see Shiro standing at the door through his hazy wet eyes.

“My…what got you so worked up Blue? Not that it matters. You should do it more often, it’s a good look on you.”

Blue smiled. Blue smiled and swallowed the bile down. Down like his hopes to see Shiro once again, and instead replaced with routine pleasure. The champion walked in. His shadow covering all of Blue as the light from the hallway began to disappear with the door closing. The champion only gave a single look at the dirty ground and scoffed. He approached with a swagger and immediately placed his large hands on each of Blue’s thighs and pried. Lance could only look away as the champion tore off his clothes and garments.

“Such a dirty slut. Making a mess even while I’m gone. Got sick of waiting?” The champion laughed. 

He took two of his dry fingers and shoved them in Blue’s mouth. Slicking them up then trailed them down further Blue’s body. Blue arched when the champion worked up his nipples to harden, his cock followed despite never being touched. The champion bit at Blue’s neck, pushing both of them down on to the bed. The champion took his time in working Blues tanned skin to red, a burning sensation formed and ached in Blue. It was a familiar feeling, but yet it never was satiated the same way again.

“Please…” Lance meekly mewled, his frame now shaking.

“Please what, Blue?”

“Inside… please. I need your cock in me!” Lance said, choking once the champion shoved his fat fingers in his hole. 

There was no steady pace nor trying to get used to the intrusion. The champion shoved his fingers in fully and then thrusted with a crazy wild pace. Lance keened, the squelch of liquids was burning in his ears. He moaned loudly and groaned as another finger was pushed inside him. His mind went white; dizzying as the fingers pushed against his prostate. His hardened cock burned against his own skin, being forgotten as Lances hole quivered and opened. The champion pulled out all of his fingers with a wet pop sound and left Lance with an unsatisfied burn in his stomach. Liquids dripped from his hole as it tried to clench around air.

“Here Blue, what you wished for.” 

The heavy cock tore out of his armor. It was thick and purple, Lance could barely see as all he could smell, taste, and hear was the champion. The cock pulsed and twitched in the champions grip and smelled of his saturated musk.

“Go on, get me nice and wet for your disgusting sloppy hole.” 

Lance as commanded brought himself up right to lick at the engorged head. Diving down all the way to where it hit the back of his throat, causing him to spasm and twitch.

This is where Blue belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pardon the rare updates, there is a lot going on and all I got is the chapter layouts and beginnings. But otherwise, I will continue writing!


	3. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been awhile. 
> 
> I’ve had this chapter reworked over and over (not beta’d) and is completely overworked. Idek how people interact so this is insane for me to attempt- but man am I good at torturing Lance.

“This is not enough Sendak.”

“Is that any way to speak to your highers, child?” 

“Sir, I want more out of the training. At this rate I…” Shiro trailed off.

Sendak scoffed, releasing a hearty laugh of doubt.

“You are quite the hard worker! I find it amusing that Provok was astounded at your growth. I’ll give you what you want. Before long you’ll be a fine soldier.”

“I… I don’t want to wait that long! I want to get stronger!” Shiro complained.

“Big dreams kid. You’re still too young, not to mention not as developed as Galra your age. It’s admirable to see you trying but a human such as yourself wouldn’t compare to a Galra.”

“Then make me. Whatever it takes, I want to be stronger.”

“Whatever, you say?”

“...if you can assure me I can get stronger.”

Sendak looked at Shiro with a wide sadist grin before saying, “Then I’ll make sure to talk to the druids.”

——

Lance’s arms were restrained. Held together in a solid lock, the electric purple in between the cracks acted as his only source of light. But even then there was nothing but a gray metal wall. He… he was dreaming again. Lance could tell. Even while he was still on Altea he had what people called dreams. Only he couldn’t control them; they controlled him. Lance couldn’t move even if he tried. He recognized this place… this small box that smelled putrid and had no means of light. His prison… 

Lance was pressed against four walls. His limbs all locked in stiff uncomfortable positions as he hadn’t moved for days. He kneeled vertically, gravity working against his aching knees. A gag was stuck in his mouth, his voice completely muffled. There was no noise, at least, externally. It was a completely soundproof box. No matter how hard Lance tried to shimmy his shoulders against the tight enclosure or beat his head against the door, no one came. Lance chewed on the bit, drowning out the silence in his own pain. 

He felt slick pouring from his hole. It’s been three days since they placed their toys on him and locked him up. He couldn’t move to get friction, he couldn’t force it out or even make an attempt to remove it. He was stuck squatting in an uncomfortable immobile position and the endless vibrations inside him, on him. Unmistakably pleasuring him to his dismay. His cock stood hard, but there wasn’t enough. He wanted to cum. He needed to cum. Lance shoved the thought; he couldn’t- no he wouldn't! He couldn’t lose this fight. But everytime his body twitched there was a new found pain burning from his groin. All he could do was messily drool around the gag.

Lance tried to flick his tongue out to his lips, barely managing around the gag. He hadn’t eaten nor drank anything in so long, he was sure they were starving him out completely. His stomach growling was the only noise to ever cover the ringing of the vibrations. His body shivering as he felt a slight draft. The metallic chains clanked against the ground as the old hinges creaked open. A sudden burst of light blinding Lance as a hand reached into the small box and clawed his hair, dragging him out from his confines with a harsh tug.

“It’s been five days. I believe you should be willing to listen.” 

Lance didn’t respond.

The commander frowned, his eyes disdained as he shoved Lance to the ground. The commander lifted his heel, bringing it to grind on Lance’s groin painfully. Lance cringed, his body spasming as the chains limited his movements. The chains were sent wildly flailing but yet Lance was stuck under the commanders foot, only allowing him to writhe as the commander spit on his face.

It was only a dream. It wasn't happening again. 

“If you wish to live you’ll know what’s best for you. Opening your mouth and legs like the whore you are and pleasure the champion.”

Lances mouth opened, words spit out that he remembered he would fondly take pride in before. Now they only brought pain.

“You’ll have to kill me before I ever-“

Lance woke up with a start, his body drenched in unfortunate cold sweat despite the clothes ventilation. They would push him back in the crevice. Making sure to add more contraptions on him to make him lose his mind. 

“You’ll find pleasure in pain.”

He was right.

Lance curled up into a ball, remembering every single detail. Lance touched his body, broken.

The man grabbed Lance’s head pulling at the strands of hair, Lance was dazed as his eyes were half lidded. Did- did he do something wrong? He was sure he followed his instructions. 

“That’s enough fucking your whore mouth, but I was told specific instructions.”

Lance froze.

“I’ll be here to teach you how to find pleasure in pain. Lucky me, you already seemed accustomed.”

The man grabbed something metal off of the desk. He returned quick, grabbing Lance’s limp arms. Lance whined, the sound involuntary, seeming to please the man. Lance shut his eyes, but howled as he opened him in surprise as clamps squeezed his nipples. They hurt! His chest pulsed in fiery red as the man locked the iron clamps, pulling them upward farther than Lances toes could follow. It reminded him how small he was.

“What are you?”

“I- I’m a whore! Nothing more than an object for pleasure!”

“Who do you serve?”

“The G-Galra!”

“Good slut. Once you start behaving we can present you to Zarkon.”

“Please… please no.”

“That isn’t an option for you, whore.”

That week Lance died, at least, Lance did. Blue remained and well, would chuckle at the memory. In the end nothing changed by resisting, it just hurt more, and yet he ended up still with more Galra cocks in his ass than he could remember. He’s been passed around so much in his immortal life, he was sure there was nothing waiting for him. Just another Galra champion, ready to use Lance like a toilet. Lance tried his best to shove the memories that reappeared as dreams as he took off from the bed and shedded down.

The voices would echo in Lances head. At least… Zarkons did. He had learnt his lesson… he really did. Now he just had to prove it.

“If you ask nicely I’ll make sure to make you a mess. Now how do you ask nicely?”

“Please… please fuck me. I- please I beg of you use me like a whore!” Lance rutted his hips against the cold ground.

“Pleasure me first,” the Galra tugged Lances leash, causing him to lurch forward, “A good fucking slut never cums before their master.”

Lance’s hands found the Galra, the armor complex but Lance was trained… knew the way to shed them off better than the back of his hand. Now the emperor sat just as bare as Lance.

“You’re learning quickly… not a bad trait.”

“Please! I need it!” Lance begged, his mind farther than when they drugged him before.

“What do you need?”

“I- I need… _your cock sir_ …”

“Speak up.”

“I need your cock in me, sir!”

A menacing fang filled grin, “What are you?”

“I’m… im…”

“You’re a fucking sow. Nothing more than a hole for the Galra to use.” Hands pried his hole open, prodding.

Of course he was.

It solidified in his mind, drowning his mind like concrete, sticking and forever stuck. Lance screamed as his insides tore, his body not accustomed to the large studded intruder. He hissed through his teeth, his body reeling but yet knowingly pushed downwards with the help of gravity. His body quakes and yet his mind was no longer attached, finding refuge in the dark as Zarkons hands found Lances hips and pistoned. His mind drowning, his body blinded in pleasure; that’s how Lance died.

Lance found himself dragging his worn body to the bath, drawing it out hotter than normal. He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin was red and raw. But yet Lance still didn’t feel clean. Nor did Blue. Lance traced the one and only mark that managed to remain clear through all the years. Zarkons bite etched into his neck. Despite being mangled and torn apart by the numerous champions… he would always have the mark of property.

He never could escape from this.

————-

“Blue!” Shiro shouted from the large vent in the ceiling.

Lance craned his neck, peeling over to the vent, staring it directly as a small form wiggled it’s tiny fingers from the cracks. Lance held his arms out, signaling that the coast was all clear and that Shiro could jump down. Shiro unlocked the vent, sending himself falling down. Lance cushioned his fall, unfortunately due to Shiro’s size difference since their last meet, Lances arms felt as if they would pop from their sockets. 

Shiro was back, Lances head thudded.

They both fell on the bed with an unflattering thud.

“I… I told you I would be back!”

Lance opened his mouth to question Shiro’s tone, but bit his lips as he remembered his outburst from before.

“You did…” Lance went quiet, not sure how to approach Shiro.

He came back despite everything… 

Shiro broke the silence, his tone soft, “I won’t ask anymore… for you to follow me or about it. I didn’t want to force you, I just… wanted to make you happy.”

The way Shiro respected his privacy made Lances heart ache. He wished he could tell him, simply let Shiro know his true purpose and why he would never leave, but he was too young. He did look older than before, but still too innocent, too pure. Lance breathed a sigh of relief as Shiro faces him, eyes piercing through him. 

“You do make me happy Shiro, just talking to you is like a fresh breath of air.” Lance said, his voice in under use.

Shiro clammed up at Lances statement, his eyes looking away as his face went red. Was it sadistic to like it when he would blush? Lance never usually had much reaction to his words other than a very horny Galra. He needed to make sure to not scare Shiro away. If Shiro completely left him one day he couldn’t follow him. He wouldn’t have an opportunity to speak again without permission and need to service.

Shiro broke through his thoughts, “I- I’m glad. How have you been Blue?”

“I’ve been doing great,” Lance smiled, casually lying through his teeth, “how about you?”

Shiro frowned as if not convinced, “Are you sure?” 

“Nothing I never dealt with before, Shiro.”

“Then are you really okay?”

Was it just child curiosity or was he able to tell Lance was lying? He was sure he had over two hundred years on the child, but somehow Shiro managed to make Lance feel like a child again.

“I’m sure Shiro.”

“Are you really really sure?” Shiro said, extending the words.

Lance smiled, Shiro was really persistent...

“I’ve been having nightmares, nothing new, but… it’s not exactly fun to wake up to. There’s no cure for dreams.”

Shiro seemed to paused as he took in Lances words, “There is!”

Lance looked at Shiro curiously. 

“Did you find a way to stop dreams?” Lance asked, truly finding himself confiding and hoping Shiro had.

“Here, can I come closer?” Shiro asked, pointing to Lances side.

Lance was hesitant, he knew Shiro wasn’t like the champion. But he still felt nervous with Shiro sporting a knifes sheath along his waist. Lance didn’t like weapons, and even further, Lance didn’t exactly _like_ physical contact. It’s been spoiled over the years… Lance forced his head to nod. He didn’t want to lose Shiro, and if his method of getting rid of the memories worked then maybe Lance wouldn’t need shiver this way when Shiro’s hand reached out to him. Lance saw his hand closer to his face, it was calloused and hard, much more abused than it should be.

“Can I touch you? Sorry, I should’ve asked that first.” Shiro said, his retreating down to the chest.

Lance breathed in a deep breath, his head pulsed as if screaming to get away but he had trained himself to be able to withstand at least this much. 

“Go ahead.”

He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. Shiro’s shifted, sitting with his legs off the bed and his hand now reaching for Lances head. Lance knew he flinched, retreating backwards slightly as Shiro's eyebrows creased. He moved slowly, as if reaching out to a frightened animal.

“Is something wrong?” Shiro cautiously asked.

“Sorry. I’m not used to being… touched.” Lance lied… maybe he was touched too much.

Lance could feel himself falling limply as Shiro's hand weaves against his neck, pulling him downward slowly. His head braces against the impact, knowing this movement well. Shiro’s lap was warm even with all of the leather armor that laced against his rough textured clothes. Lance felt his mind racing, his lungs ready to heave as Shiro's crotch was near his face. Was Shiro- no he couldn’t be. Shiro wouldn’t be using him- All thoughts of such actions flew away as Shiro ran his hand through Lances hair, Lances sense tingling as it was gentle. So different in demeanor and mannerism than any other touch he has felt. Lance breathed softly, relishing in the warmth as small nails scratched lightly at his scalp. He heard chuckling from above, Shiro’s laughter light and… reminiscence of his past. 

“Never got to lay on someone’s lap before?”

“No… I never had the chance... But it feels nice.”

Not when he was a commendable and upright prince, not when he was a playful flirt who never settled, not when he is Galra property. Lance purred at the sensation, something so… lovely about such an intimate action. Lance shivered, retreating his mind to the waves Shiro’s fingers made across his head instead.

“On Earth my mother would do this when I was much younger. I would run to her when I had a nightmare and she would put my head on her lap. Sometimes she read me a bedtime story as she scratched my head, but I don’t have a book…”

“Bedtime story?” Lance asked, finding himself looking up into Shiro’s eyes… a nice new sight he wouldn’t mind again.

“Have you never heard a bedtime story?” Shiro asked, as if astonished.

“Never even heard of them. Are they stories that are told specifically when it’s night time?”

“Yeah! They’re supposed to make you sleepy. When I had a nightmare all my mom had to do was tell me a story and then I would end up dreaming about something else.”

“Are they that influential?”

“Uh… I’m not sure? They worked for me!”

“Do you specifically need a book to read?” Lance asked.

“No, I remember some! I can’t say that I can tell it word for word but I can remember most of it!”

“Then… do you mind if I hear a “bedtime story”?” Lance nearly begged.

It sounded like such a fun activity and even had positive effects; it was all Lance could ask for.

“Of course! Do you have any stories in mind?”

“I… I don’t know any. At least, none that were made for warding off dreams.” Lance answered.

“I… most stories weren’t made with that in mind. But that’s okay! I forget you aren’t exactly… human.”

The words made Lances heart twinge. So Shiro was the same… seeking refuge away from the Galra by confiding in someone who was similar in form. But yet Lance couldn’t be what Shiro wished for. He wasn’t human, just his reaction to Shiro was proof enough. He couldn’t be human… but now than ever he wished he could be. If he wasn’t born royalty… he wished he could’ve been born human. 

“I… I may not be human, but I’ll still be here for you Shiro.”

“I- yeah! I didn’t mean it like that Blue! I… I want to be here for you Blue, but… I can never be sure.”

“That’s okay Shiro. I’ll always be here,” Lance eyed the room, “waiting, so if you want to visit anytime, you can.”

Shiro’s frown returned, but he didn’t press on it.

“I… I’ll try and visit as often as I can. When I am on this ship. I promise you that.”

“I’ll take you on your word.” Lance smiled.

“I- that’s- yeah!” Shiro had gone red again, “I don’t know what stories you like, but I can tell a lot. I know ones made universally too!”

“Universally!?” Lance was astonished, Shiro was insanely knowledgeable!

“Yeah! I know some from America, some from Korea, some from Japan,” Shiro listed, but Lance couldn’t follow, “i'll start off with one well known on Earth! Cinderella!”

“Cinderella?”

“It’s a story of a girl who had magic casted upon her by a fairy for a ball and then she becomes a princess!” 

“That… she uses magic to become a princess?”

“Well… she didn’t exactly ask for it. But she was so nice she deserved it!”

“That’s… interesting. I would love to hear it.”

“Once upon a time…”

—————-

“I… he… he went against his father’s wishes?” Lance said, astonished as he found himself nestled on Shiro.

“You’re worried about the prince?” Shiro asked, 

“Well if we were to speak of the consequences of marrying a girl he had barely met for an hour and only had a dance to base her on-“

Lances rant was met with laughter as Lance could feel the vibrations of Shiro’s chuckles from his lap. Lance stared curiously at Shiro with a brow raised.

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you Blue!”

“Then what exactly is that hilarious?” Lance asked, not threatening but maybe a bit pouty.

“Everyone would say the same thing about these books! People always hated that they fell in love so quickly. Saying it was unrealistic and weird! But… I guess it isn’t so… fake…” Shiro trailed off after that, not looking Lance in the eyes as Lance could see him blush a pretty cute red.

“You believe in love at first sight, Shiro?” Lance laughed, a rarity.

“Yeah…” Shiro murmured, “ _More like experienced it…_ ”

Lance didn’t catch the second part, but it didn’t bother him. Who knew Shiro would be so cute, thought of course he was still young. Young and very hopeful. He wished he would find someone kind and not as Brutish to fall in love immediately with a Galra.

“I hope you meet someone who will instantly love you back, Shiro.” Lance said, whimsically.

“I’m working on it,” Shiro laughed, “Do you want to hear another night time story? I can read them until you fall asleep.”

“No way! That would be highly rude to fall asleep before you and not be able to escort you out!”

“It isn’t rude, that’s what the stories are supposed to do! Please? I never get to tell stories! And I want to spend time here, I… I want be here.” Shiro said, his puppy-dog eyes brilliant.

“I- fine… if I fall asleep then you can wake me up.”

“I won’t, but I can say I will!”

“Cheeky.”

Shiro smiled, “Of course.”

Shiro continued to tell him the strange stories. Apparently, despite them being stories they were not real. They were simply made with the imagination of Eartheans and none of them were actually based on any real person. Which was Shiro’s way of getting Lance to stop questioning to real logistics of all the stories. It was hard to get used to them at face value, but after hearing more and more stories it became more apparent that even if the stories made no sense, they were enjoyable with Shiro’s dramatic narration. 

Lance relaxed, barely focusing to the story Shiro was now telling as his words lulled him to sleep. He never had fallen asleep so quickly… nor had he had someone by his side as he slept. With the stroking of his head, lance fell asleep.

———

Lance found himself in a place lined with gold, a large room filled with faceless people dressed in fineries much more elegant and elaborate than his. He felt ashamed, not knowing why. A shy step in his every movement as he ventured around the sides of the ball. A movement caught his eye, a slight sliver of purple. But yet once he saw that one hair more appeared and surrounded him. Lance ran from the gold laced area, his stomps of dress shoes on glass. Lance barreled out the large doors in a flurry to outrun his captors. He was panting, heaving, but he continue to run. 

There was a large staircase, too long to be considered normal. Lance looked back at his chasers, ones who had multiplied by the second. Lance tripped, a sudden jerking movement that sent him tumbling upon the steps. And into somewhere warm. Someone. A man masked in black, and shrouded by a blur as if a mirage. Lance panicked, looking back at the previous Galra. Only to find them missing, and instead he was getting pet. Who was this person? Why did he feel safe?... and as if on cue the world distorted, sending Lance into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: more angst.


	4. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again.  
> Been awhile.  
> Turns out 2019 took my balls and decided to crush them.  
> Aka this year is beating my ass in a nonkinky way, but hey I’m alive and apparently that’s all I have.
> 
> But hey we get to see from Shiro’s perspective. 
> 
> Once again, unbeta’d and if there are new tags I need to add please tell me.  
> This took forever but yet it’s still so short man.

“Blue?” Shiro whispered out from the vent.

Shiro was in the vents again, of course with the same intentions as all the other times. He wanted to see Blue. He never had the time recently, with Sendak’s new training and lectures, with Haggar’s weird quintessence tests, and now with his own time training, his freetime was limited. But once he does have time he knew he had to use it immediately to see Blue. He missed being able to freely talk to someone as an equal.

His body was growing, maybe not as tall as Blue yet, but Shiro felt like he weighed much more than him somehow. His body was slowly getting cramped over time in the small confined space of the vents and he would wriggle his way down uncomfortably. What can you do when it’s to see your crush? Well, this definitely was different than the fairy tales.

Shiro didn’t expect his first love to be a man. Especially one that seemingly is older than him by more than he can count. He fell faster than he could keep up with. He would never tell Blue, but he was his salvation. When he first found himself in an unfamiliar place after an explosion that caused him to black out, all he saw was purple. Purple beasts that grinned with too sharp of teeth and their eyes glowing yellow. 

Shiro definitely pissed his own pants and had screamed.

But now he was older. Most of the Galra that had at first intimidated and filled him with insurmountable fear was now his colleagues or mentors. They treated him the same as a Galra, yet they didn’t at the same time. But for the next five years after the incident that tore him away from his own planet, he couldn’t imagine what a normal human looked like anymore. He remembered his mother and father, but only when Shiro looked at himself against the shiny metal of the hallways and windows. Comparing a human to a Galra… he never knew why they wanted him. Everyone was strong. Large in size, experts with knives or other variation of weapons, and exceptionally loyal. Meanwhile Shiro was off running from his classes and generally making his own rules in fights.

There was only one outlier in this whole ship of brutes, including him. Blue. Sweet voiced Blue. Clear tan skin and bright blue eyes that put a Balmera crystal to shame. He was different. Something human. When Shiro first met him he thought he was a doll, an illusion, a mermaid. But when Blue had recoiled and spoke, his heart burst with even more adoration. Shiro couldn’t explain why. He wanted to know more about Blue. 

He had never seen him with another Galra, despite him mentioning it. He hadn’t ever seen him leave the room, something Blue was adamant about. He never even saw him ate. To say Shiro was concerned was an understatement. He wanted Blue to be safe. 

Shiro got to the vent cover, an abused cover that really served no purpose anymore than as an exit. Shiro didn’t have to fear that someone else would find this vent; no Galra was capable of fitting in such a space. As he peered into the room that radiated the same purple the whole ship had been washed in he held his breath.

“Blue?” Shiro whispered out once again from the vent, but getting no response. 

Shiro could feel his paranoia rocket. Blue _**never**_ left his room. That last encounter where he tried to take Blue out of the room caused him to react violently. Shiro festered that the next time he visited Blue would be seething with hatred. Thankfully, Blue had paid no mind. Acting as if his breakdown hadn’t ever even occurred, and if that was what it took to keep Blue by his side then so be it.

He did what he thought was right, sending the hard sole of his boot to the vent latch. With a creak, it jauntily opened. Shiro peered into the room sneakily. Empty. His head swiveled to the door and then to the bed. Empty, he reassured himself. Shiro tucked his hand into the vent and sent his body somersaulting out of the opening. Catching himself with his hand he hung there. He swung his legs, surprised the vent was not collapsing at his momentous weight, and flung himself to the foot of Blue’s bed. 

Calling forth tremendous balance he did not have, Shiro found himself face first with the cushions of Blue’s bed. With a soft thump he was successfully in Blue’s desolate room. Shiro removed himself from the bed, an after thought of ruining or causing unwanted creases on the pristinely made bed. He had barely been able to hear it before from his vantage spot in the vent, but Shiro could now hear the a steady stream of water coming from the corner of the room. 

Shiro’s boots barely made any noise as he used his learned skills to advance upon the noise. Shiro should’ve known this was a bad idea, especially since he knew what he thought it was. But curiosity and a sick flush of want caused Shiro to peek into the barrier. 

It wasn’t hard to see Blue. The room always had a sense of having no barrier or privacy, even in the bathroom. Blue was surrounded with crystal clear windows, the only thing keeping him covered was a layer of mist that condensed in patches on the windows. Shiro felt his heart race, his hand unsteadily gripping tighter on the wall where he was leaning. His feet wouldn’t move, it was like he was frozen, solid as if hit by the beauty of Medusa’s eyes. 

Shiro felt his eyes flicker over Blue’s body, mapping out everything the suds of soap touched. Blue had his eyes closed, his mouth slightly opened in a low breathy moan at the warm water. Shiro wasn’t wrong, Blue looked natural in water, like a mermaid. His hair was dampened, but it didn’t stop him from looking beautiful. His skin glistened with the water and each trail of water traveled down to where Shiro could only glance at. Shiro could feel blood rushing down south, his head getting more hazy than the fog. He was sure he was more red than a tomato with how heavily he was blushing.

Blue was now humming a small tune, not even noticing the pair of eyes that was quickly enveloping his figure with renewed lust. Shiro grit his teeth as Blue slowly opened his eyes, letting his hands drift from his arms, then his nipples, down to skinny stomach, then against his…

Shiro was dizzy, he couldn’t do this to Blue! Shiro forced his mind and legs to cooperate. This was too much of an invasion of privacy. Shiro focused on looking to the side of the room. Only able to smell a sweet scent wafting from the bathroom as the water suddenly stopped. Shiro felt panic all of a sudden, not wanting Blue to label Shiro as a pervert who watched people shower. Shiro ran from the room, his palms sweaty as he stuck his head from the front door to make sure no one was guarding. 

No one was outside, but Shiro could hear a series of heavy steps coming towards the room. The steps did not match the automated drone. Shiro barely had time to care as he saw a shadow move towards the room. Shiro ran, knowing he had to come back to investigate. Shiro ran towards the other hall, using the corner as a cover as he held his breath. He blended into the shadow, watching in disbelief as a Galra made their way to Blue’s door.

No one visited Blue. 

**No one**

Out of the corner of Shiro’s eye he could spot the Galra’s form. He was large, much larger than Sendak, but smaller than Zarkon. Shiro could see the man seething at the teeth, drool leaking from his grit teeth. The man’s veins pulsed purple as each muscle seemed to be jutting out from his skin. His fur was matted, caked in rusty red blood. The smell was awful as it hit Shiro from meters away.

Shiro felt creep in his spine. Blue was in trouble! The Galra took hold of the door, entering as if it was his rite of passage. Shiro ran as soon as he heard the door click close and the heavy steps muffled by the room. Shiro ran, ran past the large cafeteria, ran past the training rooms, and into his room. Well, a shared room, but even then his Galran partner was never there in turn of training nearly twenty-four-seven. Shiro climbed up top of his bed, looking towards the roof to an iron grate. 

Shiro figured due to his room being on the edge of the ship, as well as being a modified closet, he had a grate that most rooms didn’t. Shiro plucked the grate off, already permanently off its screws due to constant visits Shiro made. Shiro shimmied his body into the vent and then tossed the grate back on haphazardly as he had more concerns right now. All of them revolving around Blue and his safety.

It was chance that Shiro ever made it to Blue’s room. He just so happened to have the top bunk and a small dagger that was durable and small enough to use as a screwdriver. The first time he went into the vents he didn’t expect to see much. He came across empty rooms and some openings to the cafeteria or even the shower rooms, but he had no interest. Only one real thought crossed his minds as he ventured in further and further. _Could he possibly find an escape?_

As he ventured to what he felt was the last and furthest opening, Shiro looked inside. He could see a bed, much larger than any soldiers. He could see the blankets slightly ruffled and cocooning a small figure. They were slim, much too small to be a Galra. The thought excited Shiro, enough to lay his hand in the grate to test the durability. It gave in quickly, almost too easily as it’s latch had deteriorated. He felt panic, did he wake the figure up? To his surprised he didn’t, and made his way inside. Curiosity pulled him to the lean person. Was it… could it possibly had been another human? 

The rest was history. Shiro fell in love. Hard. There was no explanation other than that it was love at first sight. And now his crush had a monster inside his room. Shiro shuffled towards Lance’s room desperately. Shiro didn’t slow his movements until he heard Blue. He heard him, but he wasn’t speaking. No. 

Blue was moaning. 

Blue’s voice was high pitched and whining. 

Had Blue been injured by the monster?! Shiro finally reached the vent cover, seeing the purple light shine through. He place his hand on the latch, the other on his daggers sheath. He was ready to go down, shove the blade into the Galra’s throat. But once he peered inside his throat had clenched, suddenly dry. 

Blue was there. On top of the very same Galra. Blue was dripping with not only water as if he never dried off, but also blood from light scars. Teeth marks littered his neck and thighs. But that wasn’t all. Of course it wasn’t. Shiro looked in horror as Blue was thrown off the Galra, now mounted and proceeded to scream loudly as the Galra thrusted forward. A devilish and deep chuckled reverberated as Blue cursed and kicked at the sheets.

“It’s been long enough that you bleed from penetration? Thought a whore like you would always be open. Maybe that’s what I should do? Keep your ass open with toys until I come back?”

Blue was crying, barely able to respond before the champion’s large clawed hand clutched around Blue’s neck and squeezed. The response was instantaneous as Blue’s limbs spasmed under the constriction. His choked out cries that drowned under the Galra’s grunts. With a vicious thrust and loud hiss the Galra stilled, but his grip did not let go, and Blue was limp. Shiro felt his hand nearly destroy the latch but as soon as the Galra let go Blue sputtered to life, coughing and cradling himself. 

“Clean up. I’ll be coming back later and the sheets better be clean.” The Galra threatened to Blue, who was barely conscious. 

“Y….yes….” Blue choked out.

The Galra picked his body off of Blue with a loud squelch. The Galra wiped the sweat off his brow and then proceeded to sniff the air. While the air was permeated with their actions, nearly causing Shiro’s nose to fall off, the Galra clearly was confused with what he was smelling. The Galra’s head then tilted towards the vent, an action that sent Shiro reeling backwards out of view and into the darkness. 

Shiro held his breath, waiting for the Galra to turn his head. It felt like forever while Shiro processes what just happened. Shiro wasn’t dumb, he knew what just went down. Blue was being used. They were having sex, but Blue didn’t want it. He was being forced into it. His skin broken and his cries stifled. Blue… Blue was in danger. How long had this been happening? How many visits were Blue hiding these events under? 

Shiro exited the vents, spending no time to run out of his room and to the hallway that went to Blue’s room. By the time Shiro was there and rounding the corner the menacing Galra was leaving the room, coming towards Shiro. Shiro felt his fist clench against the hilt of his blade. When had it gotten into his hands? He grit his teeth and felt his common sense and self preservation being shoved under his bubbling fury. He needed this Galra dead. This Galra hurt Blue. Shiro’s brain pulsed with a hearty thrum and the purple lights were going red in his vision.

As soon as the Galra turned the corner, Shiro pounced. His knife gleamed as he thrusted his arm out. As if the Galra knew Shiro was there, the Galra spun around, facing Shiro faster than Shiro could process. The knife didn’t even touch a single follicle of fur as the Galra had deflected his knife, digging it into the wall behind them. Shiro let go of his knife as soon as he realized it was stuck. But it was all too late. The Galra was fast. Unfairly in accordance to his size. Shiro only realized now that he was held up by his right arm like a rag doll, that he was sorely mistaken if he thought he was going to defeat this Galra. In one single fist he held Shiro’s whole hand, forearm, and a little bit more. Shiro dangled from the single hand, feeling no give as he wiggled to no avail. 

“Little human…” the Galra said softly, before laughing maniacally, “What did you think you were doing?” 

“You- you hurt blue!” Shiro screamed, feeling his feet kick against the Galra’s solid frame. 

The Galra didn't move, didn’t even respond as he surveyed Shiro. He huffed as if Shiro was an annoyance, a bug. 

“Blue?” The Galra questioned before he was hit with realization, “oh… that whore? My… I thought kids weren’t allowed here. I did not hurt it, child. That’s its job.” 

Shiro felt tears prick the inside of his eyes. The more he heard the more he wanted to shut the world away. It was impossible. Blue wasn’t like that. Blue never got visitors. Blue didn’t like to leave his room. This Galra didn’t just touch Blue. What he was saying wasn’t true. 

“Shut up! He didn’t like it! You hurt him!” Shiro screamed. 

The Galra wasn’t amused, seemingly bored and tired of holding Shiro midair.

“It doesn’t matter if it didn’t like it or not. And it certainly isn’t your job to worry about it.” The Galra grit.

“You- stop talking about him like an object! He isn’t it, he’s Blue!” Shiro screeched, prying his short nails into the large fingers squeezing his arm.

The Galra seemed angry now. Shiro froze as if he were bit, only for the hand around his arm to start crushing it with pressure. Shiro howled in agony, seemingly pleasing the Galra as his teeth were bared, glistening with saliva. His arm was on fire. He could feel his bones splinter. Each nerve being sawed off. Shiro could hear his bones breaking as his arm was being forced into the size of a toothpick. A sickening splat sounded and blood exploded from the Galra’s grip. It was as if he crushed a tomato. Shiro no longer could see the Galra as his eyes were filled with salty tears. Shiro’s mouth was open in a wail and his voice was going hoarse as the grip did not let go no matter how much Shiro punched or clawed. 

“Ask your teacher about your place. And tell him the Champion send his regards to his nosy student.” The Galra spat, only now letting go of Shiro’s destroyed arm. 

Shiro fell to the ground, not able to feel the ground as Shiro hissed and cried. He didn’t dare clutch his arm as he bit down on his own lips to stop his screams. The Galra, Champion, simply left Shiro to cry. Shiro couldn’t breathe, his lungs were collapsing inside him and his tears made his eyes burn. His arm was numb. Was his arm still there? Was it all intact? Shiro forced his eyes open, only to see blood. Blood was everywhere. His right arm gone. The only thing left was a sliver of skin blotched by blood and remnants of bones turned to ash. Shiro nearly passed out. He wanted to pass out. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t right now. He needed to- he needed to preserve his arm. He needed to stop the bleeding. 

Shiro didn’t know how he did it. But he had ripped his shirt into pieces, enough to wrap it harshly against the shreds of his arm despite his own screams and the burn. Only when he had wrapped it three times did he feel his left arm drop to the ground. Exhaustion? Blood loss? He couldn’t tell. Shiro placed his head against the cool metal. He wanted to see Blue. He wanted to know if he was alright, if he didn’t have to endure the same fate as Shiro. Shiro let these thoughts lull him into a deep dark abyss. 

———

Sendak was taking count of the blades in the armory. His bracelet opening an interface to allow for the data to be counted. It was of no surprised when he heard the whir of the door open, there were sparring matches happening nearly every hour of the day. Sendak only was alerted when the stench of blood reached his nose, a quick wake up to his rather menial task. 

Sendak looked up from his device, seeing a small figure soaked and leaking blood from the side of their body. Sendak didn’t have to look twice to realize who it was. Shiro. Sendak turned off his interface, nearly gunning it to Shiro’s side. Shiro had dragged himself halfway across the room despite being unsteady in his feet. He was barely conscious when he collapsed to his knees, the blood was everywhere. His normally pale skin was dyed red and his arm was wrapped in the scraps of a uniforms shirt. The red of his blood a stark contrast from the near white his skin was due to blood loss. Sendak covered his nose from the intense smell as he held Shiro in one arm, already racing to the infirmary.

“Shirogane?! What the hell happened to you?” Sendak barked out as he turned the corner.

“The… Cham….pion…” Shiro croaked out, “need… to get… stron…ger…”

He needed to get stronger. He needed to get stronger. He needed to get stronger _**for blue**_.

That was all Shiro chanted to himself before he was lost to the dark abyss again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might become 6 chapters depending. (Or really more than likely, but anyways yeah-) 
> 
> I’m slowly dying out, but thank you those who comment, no matter how short or long. Y’all warm my cold, dead, and broke heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m probably going to be abit slow on updating this, mainly because each chapter is a different meeting with Shiro, which doesn’t happen often.
> 
> The chapter number is susceptible to change.


End file.
